


In Times of Peace

by thekumquat



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Character Death, Dubious Consent, Dubious Ethics, F/M, Gen, M/M, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-28 10:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/673492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekumquat/pseuds/thekumquat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Decepticons are defeated, and the Autobots return to Cybertron victorious and ready to rebuild their civilization. The problem is, what do they do with all these prisoners? A historical method of rehabilitating prisoners is implemented, but it looks an awful lot like slavery from a certain point of view. Standing on a crumbling planet and a political powder keg, can Optimus hold his people together long enough to bring lasting peace to their species?</p><p> </p><p>This fic is pretty much abandoned, I'm sorry to say. I may update it now and again if I get an idea, but don't hold out much hope. :( Sorry guys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started off as a response to a kink meme request, and the plot got a little out of hand.  
> Basically, anon wanted the Autobots to win the war and, for whatever reason, turn their former enemies into slaves, willing or unwilling. Skyfire very much wants Starscream as his slave, but is denied.
> 
> This fic will contain slavery, mild to extreme victim blaming, mindfuckery, and politics as the Autobots try and justify (pseudo)slavery when their leader's catchphrase is "freedom is the right of all sentient beings".  
> A quick FYI, I will be steering clear of non-con in this story, though there will probably be some dub-con here and there.
> 
> Tags will be added as I figure out where I'm going with this monstrosity.

It was just supposed to be a routine mission. It was _always_ “just a routine mission”. Go to the power plant, smash a few walls, threaten a few humans, steal the energy. Autobots arrive, Megatron shouts, Optimus Prime shouts, everyone fights, Megatron calls for a retreat, lose and drop the energon, win and escape with enough to keep the army fed for a few more weeks. 

That was the plan. 

The Autobots had been more or less defeated, which meant they had been delayed long enough for satisfactory amounts of energon to be produced. The thing to do now would be to cut and run, escape before the Autobots could regroup. It was the way things had gone since they’d first set foot on this disgustingly organic little dirtball. 

“Megatron!” Starscream landed beside his leader on the cliff over-looking the power plant they had been raiding. “We have enough energon to fuel the troops for months, and the Autobots have fallen back! Shall I give the order to retreat?” 

He received no answer. Megatron stood immobile, staring down at the skirmish still being waged below. 

“Megatron! Shall I give the order?” 

“ _No._ ” 

“I— _what_? What do you mean “no”? We are victorious!”

“Victorious? Is it a victory when your troops turn tail and run, when their enemies are on the defensive and the battle is in their favor?” 

“W…Well, no, but, but this is an energon raid, not a battle! The troops aren’t prepared for an extended fight; they’re only half-fueled for Primus’ sakes!”

Megatron swung around almost casually and backhanded him across the face, sending him flying. Starscream dragged himself up into a sitting position and glared at Megatron.

“Alert the troops,” the grey mech said, turning back to observe the fight below. “We do not leave until our enemy does.” 

Starscream knew it was useless to argue with Megatron, but he wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t try anyway. 

“Optimus Prime will never call a retreat! He will insist on returning the plant to the humans’ control!” 

“Then we will kill him too! And his little followers will flee for their lives.”

“Kill – we’ve been trying to kill the Prime since the war began, and we’ve never been able to do it! Even with an entire army at our backs—“ He cut himself off as Megatron turned to him. He had seen Megatron driven by battle lust before, with nothing in his mind but the need to kill. This, however, was a different, darker madness, and it had its grip on Megatron harder than anything Starscream had ever seen before. 

“Then call the army. Every mech. Every flyer. We do not leave this place until the Autobots die.” 

 

The battle raged for three days. With both sides so unprepared and without any real plans, the favor of the battle swung wildly. At any given moment it seemed the Decepticons might win, only for the Autobot victory to be nearly assured a klik later. 

A skirmish is like a match. It is lit suddenly, and flares brightly but briefly. It ends when it ends, and the damage is done. A longer battle, especially one for control of territory, has tides. It ebbs and flows. For a while the battle will rage, with both sides giving and taking no quarter. Then, on some unspoken signal, both sides will fall back, lick their wounds, count their supplies and prepare for the next wave. 

This was one such reprieve. The powerplant had stopped functioning. By the third day it was little more than a bombed out husk. Optimus regretted that. He wanted to cause the humans as little difficulty as possible. He did not want them hurt in this war they had no part in. 

His comm pinged with a message from Ratchet. 

“Ratchet, what’s our status?” 

“I just lost Bluestreak.” 

Optimus shuttered his optics. This was not the first spark he’d lost in the war, but it never got any easier. Bluestreak would be mourned properly when there was time, much as it ached to set such feelings aside. 

“Understood. The others?” 

“Hound is fine, it looked worse than it was. But Mirage just lost consciousness. Huffer, Trailbreaker, Smokescreen, and Cliffjumper are all down, but I might be able to get Cliffjumper back in if I’m lucky. But Optimus… If I can’t get him to the medbay soon, I’m gonna lose Swoop, too.” 

“Understood.” 

“The twins want to start the next assault now.” Prowl added. Of course they did. They would want revenge for Bluestreak. If Optimus could, he would have pulled the twins out of the fight altogether. Grief made mechs do stupid things, dangerous things. But he couldn’t. He needed every soldier he had in the fight. 

“No. Tell them I’ll let them front the next push for the plant if they promise to refuel and let Ratchet look them over. Get Perceptor armed and into a vantage point, I want a sniper on the Decepticons as soon as possible. Jazz!”

“Yo.”The spy was hidden on a cliff on the Decepticon’s side of the battle zone. 

“Can you talk?” 

“For now.” 

“What have you got for me?”

“Not much. This spot isn’t the best. They can’t see me, but I can’t hear them.”

“Tell me what you do have.” 

“The Decepticons are all on edge. Optimus… there’s nothing for them here. They ain’t after resources; they don’t plan on keeping this territory if they win. Megatron doesn’t have anything to offer them but our heads, and that’s not enough anymore.” 

“Dissension in the ranks?” 

“You better believe it. The combaticons were in to see Megatron earlier. They lost Vortex, and I think Onslaught wanted Megatron to cut the fight so they could mourn him properly.” 

“Which he didn’t.”

“Nah. Nearly shot Onslaught in the head. Told him that his team was worthless to him now, since without Vortex they’ve lost Bruticus. I heard _that_ all the way up here.” 

Optimus winced. “That’s cruel, even for him.” 

“You’re telling me. Starscream’s picking a fight with Megatron every two minutes; I don’t think he wants to be here either. I don’t think any of the Decepticons want to be here.”

“We have that in common, I think.” 

“Their fuel supplies are running low. We might be able to siege them out, now that the power plant is down.” 

“See what else you can find out and get back to me.” 

Optimus’ comm beeped again. He frowned when he saw who it was. 

“Red Alert, is there a problem back at the base?” 

“No, sir, everything’s fine. But I’ve got a message… well… ah, Elita’s calling in from Cybertron.” 

“ _What?_ ” 

“Sir it’s… I’m going to patch her through, she can explain it better.” 

“Optimus!” Prowl called from nearby. “We need to move soon!” 

He nodded and indicated Prowl should act as he saw fit. 

“…Ptimus? Ca… ar me?” Elita’s voice was almost lost in the rush of static. 

“Elita? Are you there? What’s going on?”

“Ha… on, I’m go… rese… sys…em.” The static grew louder, then abruptly dimmed. “There. Can you hear me?” 

“Loud and clear. Is everything alright?” Primus, he didn’t have the resources to spare if they needed help. 

“Shockwave is dead.”

Optimus froze. 

“How.” 

“We thought we had his schedule memorized, and we were planning an energon raid while he was away. We set a bomb to take out the walls and… well, he was still there. He got caught in the explosion. There was no saving him.” 

“Primus.” 

“We have complete control of his facility now. The explosion caused enough confusion that we were able to take out the guards. The damage is repaired enough that we can make this our new base here on Cybertron. I called in to let you know, and Red Alert explained the situation. We’re sitting on a space bridge and more than enough energon to go around. I thought maybe you could use a hand?” 

Optimus couldn’t stop his smile, and he knew she could hear it in his voice. “Elita, you’re a gift from Primus.” 

“I’ll bet he says that to every female that gets him a space bridge.” Chromia’s voice came in very loud, indicating that she had leaned in close to the microphone specifically so he could hear her. 

“Chromia!” Elita scolded. Optimus fought back a chuckle. 

“Elita, I want you to send as many fighters as you can spare. We’ll mount a flanking maneuver. They don’t have the supplies to go for much longer, and without Shockwave to send them more they’re done for.” 

“Tell Ironhide to save a few ‘cons for me, won’t you?” Chromia butted in again. 

“I think it might be better if we keep this under wraps for now.” Elita suggested judicially. 

“Oh, a surprise party. I love surprise parties.”

He bid the females goodbye, with a promise that they would be there within the next hour. He commed Prowl, who had begun been preparing for the next assault. 

“Prowl, I want every mech still standing prepped to fight.” 

“Optimus, if we do that, we won’t have any reserves to—“

“Backup arrives in an hour, Prowl, and I want the Decepticons focused on us by then. Understood?”

There was a moment of stunned silence. 

“Yessir!” 

Optimus stared out over the destruction of the battle field, and dared to hope.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle rages on...

Soundwave was exhausted. Three straight days of fighting on low fuel combined with having to send every one of his cassettes out into the field at once was more of a strain that he was used to. It had been a long time since the Autobots and Decepicons engaged in such a massive confrontation.

Morale was low all around. Whispers of dissent could be heard from every group of resting mechs, and for once Soundwave could not bring himself to record it all. Their teammates were dropping like flies. They’d lost Dirge, Ramjet and Thrust one right after the other. With Vortex gone, the Combaticons were useless, lost to their grief and the agony of a shattered bond. Skywarp was down, but stable, and it was making Starscream and Thundercracker irritable and distracted.

Megatron had to have a reason for this fight. There had to be something to be gained, something Megatron wasn’t telling anyone, not even his senior officers, about. There had to be.

He leaned against a mostly-stable section of wall and shuttered his optics. He would rest, just for a moment.

A sudden flash of terror from Frenzy had him awake in moments, diving down their shared bond, demanding location, status.

‘ _I’m alright. I’m alright. Autobots almost found me. Managed to stay hidden.’_

_‘Situation no longer safe. Return.’_

_‘Megatron said—‘_

_‘RETURN.’_

He clenched his hands into fists and ignored the automatic fear response from Frenzy. He hadn’t meant to yell. Frenzy hated being yelled at. This battle was dragging on his nerves. He wanted his cassettes safe and close, where he could see them.

A cry from above caught his attention. Laserbeak circled above, pinging him with a data file. Soundwave held out his arm, and she landed. For a moment, neither touched the file. Laserbeak rested her head against Soundwave’s, both of them eking some measure of comfort from the closeness. 

They were forced to separate when Megatron and Starscream approached. Starscream looked frustrated; Megatron had the same expression of horrible eagerness he’d been wearing all day. Soundwave took the data packed from Laserbeak and returned her to his chest before Megatron could order her out again.

 “What is the news, Soundwave?” Megatron asked.

“Autobots: appear to be preparing for final assault. Received message from Cybertron. Contents of message, unavailable. Deduction: Autobots received distress signal from troops on Cybertron, requiring end to current fighting in order to assist.”

“Ha!” Megatron swung around, glaring across the no-mech’s land to the Autobots. “We’ve got them on the run. Starscream! Order all troops to fuel up! Every mech still standing fights. We shall crush the Autobots once and for all!”

“Lord Megatron, it could be a trap.” Starscream said. “We should send the spies out again to be sure before we mount such an intensive offense—“ Soundwave had been expecting the blow to Starscream’s face. He was not expecting the powered laser canon shoved against his cockpit, directly over his spark.

No one moved. Soundwave tried to appear as obedient and innocuous as possible, painfully aware of the lone cassette trembling in her holding. He realized he was running his fingers over the glass front of his chest, and forced himself to stop.

“I gave you an order, Starscream.” Megatron said, voice deceptively calm. “I expect it to be followed, without question. Understood?”

There was a moment of horrible, uncertain silence.Finally, Starscream bowed his head.

“Yes, Lord Megatron.”

“You are dismissed. Soundwave!”

“Sir.”

“Call your cassettes in. Their services are not required at this time.”

It was inefficient military strategy. Knowing what moves your opponent was going to make before he made them was vital. Megatron had taught Soundwave that.

Soundwave caught sight of Frenzy in the shadows, peering fearfully around a chunk of rubble. He bowed his head to Megatron slightly, and put out the order to his cassettes.

“As you wish, Lord Megatron.”

Megatron smirked at him and left. Soundwave moved swiftly to where Frenzy was hiding and scooped him up into his arms, cradling him against his chest and not caring who saw him. He kept a tight hold on his emotions, but could not stop the trembling of his spark. 

 

 

Damn Megatron to the Pit.

Starscream didn’t care if Soundwave heard him. He didn’t care if Megatron killed him over it. Damn him. Damn him and his insatiable desire for power. He glanced at his leader, who stood at a low rise at the back of the army, shouting orders through the commlink. He’d barely spoken to Starscream since the fight began. It was little wonder why – Starscream was about the only flier still in the air. It was hard to be an air commander of one.

He swooped up above the battle, spun in midair and came down strafing, sending the Aubots diving for cover. He wobbled on his upswing and cursed, trying to keep himself steady. Damn Megatron. Starscream had been flying on half-fuel and full battle systems for three days. Even now, fully fueled, he was having trouble staying in the air. He needed proper recharge, not half-snatched moments of dreaming standing in a corner. Not that Megatron would care if Starscream crashed into enemy territory.

He’d probably put Thundercracker in charge.

A flash of blue and red on the battle field caught his attention. Starscream looked, and nearly fell out of the sky. Optimus Prime had charged into the battle – abandoning his post as leader! -- aiming for a group of minibots that were being harried by the Constructicons. Starscream landed on a nearby ledge for a better view.

Optimus entered the fight with a punch that sent Bonecrusher flying back several yards. Long Haul swung at Prime, who dodged easily, grabbed the Decepticon’s arm and used his momentum to swing him around through the air to land on a shakily-rising Bonecrusher. It was almost comedic.

“ ** _PRIIIIME!”_**

Megatron’s bellow cut through the air. Starscream’s spark froze in his chest.

“No.” he whispered. “No, no, no, you idiot, _don’t_ —“

Megatron strode through the fighting mechs. Mechs scattered, creating a path for Megatron. Prime hurriedly hustled away the minibots and straightened, facing Megatron without fear.

Megatron stopped two arm’s lengths away from the Prime.  Starscream was too far away to hear what they were saying, but he could see them easily enough, and something was off. Something about the way Prime stood, the way he kept his eyes on Megatron but the rest of him was turned in a slightly different direction, like he was—

_Like he was waiting for something._

He transformed and flew straight up, higher and higher above the battle. He swung a tight circle, casting his radar in every direction until –

_Primus._

A group of Autobots were coming in behind the Decepticons. And these were not the half-fueled, battle-weary troops they had been fighting for three days. These were fresh troops, fully fueled and eager to fight. Had Prime held back reserves?

He flew towards the signals, fury speeding his flight, cursing Megatron with every breath.

It took hardly any time at all to reach the ambushing troops. They were far too close, their presence entirely unexpected. When he saw just who the Autobots were, he nearly dropped out of the sky in shock.

Female Autobots.

Which meant that Prime hadn’t gathered his entire army for one last desperate rally against Megatron. The females weren’t in any danger. Something had to have happened to Shockwave.

Prime was delaying Megatron until the females arrived.

The Decepticons would fall.  

“Soundwave, you _fool_!” Starscream howled and flipped through the air, aiming back for the battle. The females began to fire. Normally, he could have dodged ground fire easily, but exhausted, angry, and panicked, Starscream was far from his best. A well aimed shot punched through his cockpit, taking out his comm system. He threw a few blasts back at the females, but he had no time to spare for a proper confrontation.

He had to warn Megatron.

Starscream pushed his engines as hard as he could, eating up the space between himself and the armies.

“Megatron!” He screamed. “Megatron, it’s a trap!”

The fight had dissolved into chaos. Without Megatron or Starscream to lead them, the Decepticons had broken ranks and lost any semblance of order. There was no time to worry about that: Megatron and Optimus were locked in battle, and nothing sort of physically coming between them would grab Megatron’s attention.

Time seemed to slow, almost to a halt. No matter how hard Starscream pushed, he could not move any faster, could not cross the battlefield to reach his lord.  

He looked down, and saw Skyfire. The shuttle was a pillar of stillness surrounded by chaos. Energon flowed freely from a wound on his arm, and more was spattered over his chest.

Skyfire’s face was a familiar mixture of fear and regret. It hardened into determination. Starscream saw him raise his gun – and it was hardly a gun at all, more like a cannon with a trigger – and fire.

He should dodge. He could dodge, maybe, if he moved fast enough. A swing to the left. A simple drop down.

He was so tired. So, so tired.

Skyfire’s aim was true. The blast hit Starscream on the wing, and he flipped, spiraling downward. He hit the ground with a crash, tearing several trees from the ground. The sound of battle came back with a roar, distant screams and gunshots rattling in his processor.

It took him a few tries, but he managed to get himself out of jet form. Starscream tried to climb to his feet, but could only scrabble helplessly against the ground. He dug his fingers into the dirt and pushed as hard as he could. He barely managed to lift a few inches off the ground.

“Starscream?” Skyfire’s voice sounded faint and far away, the tone unreadable. Guilt, perhaps? Concern?

He gazed up at the mech that had once meant more to him than Cybertron itself. Darkness crept into the corners of his vision. He tried to tell him to get away, tried to call him a traitor. Nothing came out.

“Starscream?”

Starscream fell, and the darkness took him.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay in this chapter, and that it's so short. I'm a graduating college senior, so life has been basically eating me alive for the past few months. I promise on all that is shiny and robotic, I will finish this fic. I just ask that you be patient, because it might take awhile.

The only thought in Optimus’ head was to keep Megatron distracted. He thanked Primus that he could trust Prowl to direct the battle in his stead.

He caught Megatron’s mace on the haft of his axe and dragged, trying to bring Megatron off his feet. Megatron stumbled, but didn’t fall, swinging up under their tangled weapons to punch him. Optimus kicked Megatron’s feet out from under him, but when Megatron stumbled back, the Prime was dragged along with him.

“You’ve grown weak, Prime. Consorting with the fleshlings has made you forget how to fight!”

“If I am weak, Megatron, it is only because I grow weary of our war. End this madness, once and for all! Let there be peace between us!”

Megatron managed to untangle his mace and swung at Optimus’ head.

“Never!”

A sudden explosion rocked them both. The remains of the power plant went up in flames almost instantly.

“Lord Megatron! The energon reserves!”  

“Optimus! Reinforcements are here!”

The two messages came almost simultaneously, and were quickly followed by the roaring of familiar engines. Chromia burst over a low hill, flying through the air to land square on Motormaster’s chest. Without pause, she transformed, flipped up, and head butted Wildrider hard enough to send him crashing to the ground. A cheer went up from the Autobots.

Furious, Megatron shoved Optimus away and turned towards his army.

“Decepticons! Attack! Destroy the females at all costs!”

Optimus swung his fist, punching Megatron in the back of the head and sending him stumbling forward. He whirled around.

“Fool! You think this will save you? I will destroy you and your precious females!” Their fight began anew.

But Megatron was distracted now, and angry. He was missing more often than Optimus was dodging his attacks, and ducked more of Optimus’ attacks out of luck than skill. Optimus found he could often keep an eye on the battlefield, and send suggestions to Prowl, though he could by no means actually lead.

“Prowl, see if you can get everyone to corral the Decepticons in one place. They’re scattered and so are we. A unified front would take them down more easily.”

“But then they would have a unified front as well.”

“We outnumber them now.”

“Acknowledged.”  

They fought on. Even in his madness, Megatron often gained the upper hand. He was ruthless, searching for any hesitation or weakness in Optimus’ defense and attacking it brutally.

From the corner of his eye, Optimus saw Grimlock being harried by Buzzsaw. Grimlock was breathing fire, but couldn’t seem to hit the casseticon. Buzzsaw swooped a little too close, and Grimlock lashed out, catching Buzzsaw’s wing in his teeth. He shook his head like an organic dog and the wing tore off, sending Buzzsaw whirling away. Buzzsaw dropped like a rock, and didn’t move.

A scream of anguish cut through the sounds of fighting. Soundwave crashed into Grimlock, weapons forgotten, clawing and punching and still making that awful, heartbroken cry.

“Soundwave! Return to your post! _Soundwave!”_ Megatron roared.

Megatron had turned his back to Optimus.

Optimus raised his ax.

Optimus struck.

_Crunch._

It seemed to him as though silence had fallen over the battlefield, though he could see the battle still raged. Megatron tipped forward, crashing to his knees, wrenching the ax free in the process. Energon poured from the wound. Optimus could see his spark through the hole in his chassis, guttering like a dying flame.

Optimus felt a painful tightness in his spark.

“Megatron… I am sorry.”

“Do you see it?” Megatron gasped. He coughed and energon trickled out of the corner of his mouth. “Do you see it?”

“See what?” Optimus saw only the destruction and war going on around them.

“It’s beautiful. The towers shine, Optimus. Can you see them?” Megatron tried to rise, optics still riveted on whatever it was he was seeing. He slipped and fell forward. Optimus caught him and slowly lowered him to the ground. Megatron’s face was a picture of awe and wonder. “Cybertron. In all its glory. Just as… I knew it would be again.”

“Megatron…”

“I’m home, Orion. I’m going…home…”  

The red optics dimmed, and went out. In a daze, Optimus stood. The battle went on. No one had noticed Megatron’s fall.

“Decepticons!” Optimus called, general’s voice booming out across the battlefield. “Your leader has fallen! Surrender, and you will be spared!”

The fights halted immediately. Autobots and Decepticons alike looked to their peers in confusion. Uncertain murmurs flickered across his hearing as everyone craned to get a look. Optimus looked for Starscream, but couldn’t find him.

“Soundwave?” He called, hoping for the third in command to step up. Grimlock shook his head. Soundwave knelt on the ground, cradling Buzzsaw to his chest, unseeing.

Thundercracker pushed his way through the uneasy crowd and approached Megatron’s body. He knelt beside his fallen leader and examined him carefully. Then he stood, back straight and proud. He met Optimus’ eyes.

“We yield.” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna try and finish this. I'm doing my best. I apologize for the delay, I know it's ridiculous, and I'm terrible at updating, but I'm gonna work as hard as I can to finish this for you guys. I appreciate all the comments and kudos, and thank you for your endless patience.

Red Alert was three seconds away from having a full blown panic attack.

  
“You want me to find a way to house the entire remaining Decepticon army in the Ark’s brig?!” he squealed, vocalizer shorting out in his panic. Optimus looked concerned.

  
“Yes,” Prowl said. “Do you think that would be feasible?”

Red Alert opened and closed his mouth, unable to get the words out.

“No!” He shrieked at last. “Not even if we triple bunked the prisoners and put everyone on double shifts for guard duty! Optimus, there isn’t enough space! Not to mention the security system isn’t designed to keep track of that many mechs at one time! One or two mechs under casual or heavy surveillance, yes, but this!” He opened and shut his mouth a few more times. “I can’t! It can’t be done. No.”

“Well what are we gonna do with them?” Jazz asked. The saboteur was leaning heavily against the conference room table, practically asleep in his seat. He’d refused to rest until the problem was resolved. “We can’t let them go back to their base, they’ll just pick a new leader and start all over again. Not to mention releasing their wounded now would be practically murder.”

“Don’t even get me started!”Ratchet grumped. He’d taken a break from patching up the injured mechs to attend the emergency officers meeting, and he was still spattered in energon and coolant. “I’ve never seen such slipshod work, half patched holes, misaligned tanks, leaking connectors…”

“I thought Hook was a perfectionist,” Jazz said, leaning forward to rest his head on his arms.

“Oh, Hook’s work is fine, but apparently,” Ratchet put poisonous emphasis on the word. “Medics are only for ‘emergencies’ in the Decepticon army, so anything that didn’t knock you into stasis lock was left up to the individual to fix. It’s a miracle half of these mechs are still online! And it means I’ll have to do a full medical of every single Decepticon to make sure one of them doesn’t offline in their sleep.”

Jazz sighed. “I’d like to just be done with it, you know? Megatron’s dead, the war’s finally over! I just wanna sleep for a week then party for the rest of the year.”

“We could just kill them all,” Ironhide said.

“No.” Optimus glared at his friend, though he knew – or rather, hoped – the mech wasn’t serious.

“Just sayin, is all,” Ironhide grumbled.

The door opened and Elita and Chromia walked in. Prime stifled a smile as Ironhide visibly brightened at the sight of his mate.

“Sorry we’re late,” Elita said. “Greenlight and Lancer are good soldiers but sometimes getting them to stop talking is a job for Primus himself.”

“I hope you two have some ideas,” Red Alert said tiredly. “We haven’t made much progress.”

“Actually, yes.” Elita pulled a data pad out of her subspace and connected it to the hologram projector in the center of the table. A blueprint of Shockwave’s base flickered into being. “I’ve had the bots we left behind map out the rest of the compound, to make sure there aren’t any nasty surprises hidden away. Greenlight found this in Shockwave’s files.”

Chromia hit a button on the data pad and a section of the base lit up.

“This here is the brig. Fully functional, with a top-of-the-line security system. Cells are size adjustable and come with wall mounted stasis cuffs and a force field to prevent transformation. Not to mention a dozen other handy little devices Shockwave put in there.”

“The important thing is, there’s enough room to easily and safely house the prisoners short term or long term, until we decide what to do with them.”

“So all we have to do is round them up and stick them through the space bridge.” Chromia said brightly. “Easy as energon.”

“You think you’re real clever, don’t you?” Ironhide grinned.

“Clever’er ‘n you, hotshot.” She winked at him.

“Red Alert, does that plan sound acceptable to you?”

Red Alert mulled it over for a few moments.

“Yes…” he said slowly. “Yes, I think it would. With the Decepticons defeated, there really is no need for us to stay here on Earth.”

His statement was met with a long pause as the words sank in.

“Primus,” Ironhide said. “We could go home for real.”

There was a long, awed silence. Then Optimus shook his head. "We need to focus. Getting to earth is all well and good, but we still need to wrap up these loose ends."

“We should take the prisoners through the space bridge one at a time,” Prowl said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Take the whole group to the space bridge, with the whole army standing guard, and have two of us standing by on the other side. Two to take each one through the bridge, hand them over to the two on the other side and then head back. Those on Cybertron get them set up in a cell, give us the signal, and we repeat the process.”

“It’d take less time if we did them in larger groups.” Ratchet pointed out.

“But it’ll also be more dangerous,” Red Alert countered. “Here on Earth, the Decepticons were dependent on the army to provide them with energon. They’ll have an easier time surviving individually on Cybertron, where it can still be found naturally. I don’t want any of them to get away and start up a band of freedom fighters while we’re trying to get things under control.”

“What do you think, Jazz?”

The saboteur didn’t respond.

“Jazz?”

Ratchet leaned over and peered at the spy. The medic sat up, mouth twisted in that way that meant he was trying to appear annoyed but couldn’t quite hide his smile.

“He’s asleep.”

Optimus chuckled.

“Then let’s leave him be for now. Ironhide, alert the troops. We’ll be moving the Decepticons to the space bridge as soon as they’re ready. Prowl, I want you to make up some sort of order for us to do this in, as organized as possible. Ratchet, I want you to get everyone as ready for transport as they can be. Elita, tell Greenlight the plan is confirmed.”

They began to file out of the room, Optimus quietly shutting the door behind them so as not to wake Jazz. He hurried to catch up to the medic, with a quick message to Elita promising a moment alone soon.

“Ratchet? How is Swoop?”

He sighed. “It could be worse, but it could be better. He’ll recover, but without a miracle, I don’t know that he’ll ever fly the same again. And Cliffjumper’s leg isn’t healing as well as I’d like.”  
"And the twins?" Ratchet shook his head, and Optimus sighed sadly. He never felt the weight of Primehood rest so heavily on his shoulders as when his soldiers were hurt, physically or mentally.

“Hook’s been more of a help that I would have expected, but there’s only three of us, and there’s been an awful lot of damage,” Ratchet said. He sounded exhausted. Optimus put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

“I know you’ll do your best, Ratchet.”

In the end, it took them almost forty-eight hours to get the Decepticons settled into their new cells. The injured were taken directly to the new base’s little-used but fully-stocked medical center.  
And then it was over. There were still loose ends to wrap up, and Cybertron was still badly damaged, but Megatron was dead. The Autobots had won.

The war was over.


	5. Chapter 5

Jazz’s prediction had been more or less correct. For about a week, there was very little reaction to the newfound peace time. Bots mourned those lost in battle, patched up wounds, slept the nearly-dead sleep of those suddenly freed from great anxiety. Prowl handled the end the way he handled everything: compartmentalization, rationalization, and paperwork. Lots and lots of paperwork.

There was a knock on Prowl’s door.

“Come in.”

The door slid open and Optimus stepped inside.

“Optimus, sir—“ Prowl made to stand, but Optimus waved him back down.

“What have I told you about standing on my account, old friend? Don’t tell me we’re going to have to have this argument again.”

Prowl’s lips twitched into a near-smile, and he sat back down.

“No, sir.”

“If you’ve got a minute, I’d like you to look these over.” He handed a stack of data pads to Prowl. “They’re the latest iterations of the energy trade agreements with the Earth governments.”

Prowl frowned as he flipped through them.

“There are fewer of these than I remember there being.”

“Many of the countries ended their contracts with us when we announced we were leaving Earth. They said that they were trading energy in exchange for protection from the Decepticons. With the Decepticons defeated…”

“Rather thankless of them, but I suppose I can understand not wanting to give something for nothing.”

“It’s not all bad. The United States has promised to uphold our previous agreements, and several countries in the Middle East are willing to trade oil for certain naturally occurring elements here on Cybertron.”

 “Optimus, you do realize this is a short term solution, don’t you? Cybertron has not produced energon naturally in eons. Taking energy from Earth is a delaying tactic, nothing more. We won’t be able to expand our population or rebuild in any way.”

“I know. Now that the Decepticon threat is no longer our greatest concern, I’m putting everyone to work searching for a way to revitalize our planet.”

“And you think that will help?”

Optimus blinked, surprised. “You don’t?”

“With all due respect to our comrades, no.  We only have three scientists, only one of which is truly qualified to work on a project in this field. The greatest minds of our golden age combined couldn’t find a way to solve the energon crisis, let alone three mechs scrambling for answers while the rest of us try and put our society back together.”

Optimus sighed. “You’re right. Primus, there’s just so much to do, so much to worry about.”

“Rebuilding is always more difficult than destroying,” Prowl said. “One step at a time. Speaking of difficult things, I think Red Alert might need to take a break soon.”

“What is it this time?”

“I think sitting on top of the entire Decepticon army is causing Red Alert some problems.” Prowl leaned forward, lacing his servos together on the desk. “He sent me a list earlier.”

Optimus wilted in his seat.

“Ohh, no.”

Red Alert was a big fan of lists. They made things organized and helped him to see problems in easily manageable chunks. It was also very easy to discern Red Alert’s current state of mind from how coherent his lists were.

Prowl slid a data pad across the desk to Optimus, who tentatively skimmed it. The list was mostly comprehensible, but there were several places where Red Alert had gone on tangents brain storming several possible solutions to certain problems, all of which were rather worryingly convoluted. The Decepticons were listed no fewer than five times. The last time was underlined, bolded, and italicized. There were five exclamation points next to it.

“I’ll go talk to Inferno.”

“If Red Alert resists, I recommend having Ratchet tag him for mandatory medical leave.”

“Hopefully that won’t be necessary.”

Prowl returned to his work and Optimus left to find Inferno.

 

Thank Primus for small mercies, was all Motormaster could think. Bad enough that Megatron was dead, bad enough that they’d been thrown into a prison designed by one of their own, bad enough that the slagging Autobots had _won_ … but at least his gestalt was all in one place.

For whatever reason, Shockwave made the cells down here size adjustable. It was rather ingenious, not that Motormaster gave half a slag. The cells were lined up in a row on either side of a long corridor. The back wall of the cell was solid metal, with stasis cuffs and even collars attached to the walls for the more rebellious or escape-prone prisoners. The side facing the corridor was one long line of electrically charged bars.

The size and shape of the cell was determined by the side walls, opaque forcefields that could be made wider or narrower, or even create a lower ceiling if you really wanted to box someone in.

Most of the cons were separated into individual cells just large enough to be comfortable, but the members of each gestalt had been kept together in cells even larger than the ones they gave Blitzwing and Astrotrain.

Grateful was the wrong word for how Motormaster felt about it. More like, slightly less resentful than he was about every other slagging thing in his life at the moment.

 _It could be worse_ , he thought. He risked a glance down the hall to where the Combaticons were housed – or what was left of them. Brawl and Swindle were curled up on Onslaught’s lap, faces pressed against his chestplates. Onslaught had one arm around them and the other around Blast Off, who was clinging to all three of them from the side. He could only see Onslaught’s face at that distance, but even from here he could see how empty his optics looked, how hollow and haunted he was.

He fought the creeping shiver that threatened to crawl up his backstrut. _It’s his own fault,_ Motormaster thought viciously. _He’s the leader, it was his job to watch out for them!_

It could have been one of his who got killed. It could have been Wild Rider or Dead End or Breakdown…

Speaking of Breakdown.

Motormaster turned back to his own gestalt. Breakdown had wedged himself into the corner between the metal wall and the force field separating them from Blitzwing. He was curled up into a tight, trembling ball, hands pressed tightly over his face. His gestalt-mates had been attempting to calm him for some time now, with little success.

Motormaster pushed the others away and crouched in front of Breakdown.

“Hey. _Hey_. Look at me.” He grabbed Breakdown’s chin and forced him to look up. Breakdown was trembling. With those terrified optics staring straight through him, Motormaster couldn’t think of anything to say. He sighed and pulled Breakdown close, moving so the smaller con couldn’t see anything but Motormaster. “They can’t see you. No one can see you. We’re here. You’re safe.”

That last one was mostly a lie, but he couldn’t bring himself not to say it.

“I _will_ protect you,” he whispered fiercely. “However bad it gets. I’ll protect you.”

Breakdown began to slow his shivering, burrowing into Motormaster’s chest.

 “Hey!” The sharp voice made them all jump and whirl around. Motormaster tried to move his body so he could see the bars without revealing Breakdown, who had started to shake again. The autobot guard -- a red mech, Motormaster had fought him before but couldn’t recall his name -- glared in at Motormaster through the bars. He pointed his baton at them. “Knock that off, right now.”

“We’re not bothering anyone!” Motormaster snapped.

“Yeah, right. I’m watching you numbskulls. No funny business down here. We need to see all of you at all times.” The bot jabbed his baton to the camera in the ceiling. At the word “see”, Breakdown let out a high pitched whine.

“ _He_ is about two seconds from a processor glitch! I need to calm him down! I’m not trying to escape, or whatever. Just let me take care of my team!”

“Processor glitch?” the Autobot repeated, stupidly. “What’s his deal?”

“He’s paranoid. He doesn’t like being seen.” Wildrider said, glaring at the bot.

 _“…the optics the optics they see everything they’re everywhere you can’t hide they’ll find me they’ll find me and take me…"_  Breakdown whimpered. Motormaster bit back a curse. He’d start screaming soon.

“ I’m not doing anything. Just let me take care of him!” His mouth twisted, his glossa caught against his dentals, but he forced the word out. “ _Please.”_

The bot stared at them for a long minute.

“Fine. But I’m keeping an eye on you. Any funny business, and I’m separating all of you, got it?”

There was a rumble of dissent from the Decepticons in the other cages. Separation was one of the worst tortures a gestalt could suffer, and threatening it was low, even for Autobots. The guard looked nervous for a moment, then put on a deliberately uninterested expression. He turned and walked away, smacking his baton against the laser bars, making their inhabitants jump back as he passed.

Motormaster growled softly to himself. They couldn’t stay down here forever. It would only be so long before Breakdown got too worked up to be calmed down. And what would the Autobots do if he lost it?

He needed someone to tell him what to do. He was a soldier, he needed orders! He wasn’t good at this leader scrap; he barely managed to get his gestalt mates to listen to him as it was!  But there wouldn’t be any more orders. All they had was him.

They were fragging _doomed._


End file.
